


Devil's Tongue

by erebones



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb has two hands 2k18, Explicit Consent, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rimming, Tender Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:32:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: Molly has a devil's tongue, and tonight, Caleb is on the receiving end of it.





	Devil's Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> A combination of Liam's HIGHLY unnecessary "oh yeah, oh yeah" moaning when he rolled well on a deception check this ep, and Molly's clever use of Devil's Tongue inspired this. Wholly pwp, gratuitously poetic, chock full of probably unnecessary metaphor and simile. Warnings: mild spoilers for c2e8 (very very mild), very slight d/s themes.

The night curls slow around him, soaked in warmth and kerosene. There is a lamp lit in the room, a concession to his blindness. The smoke lays acrid at the back of his throat as he stretches, digs his toes against the threadbare sheets, worn nearly transparent in places but soft as clouds and clean, yes, that’s the most important part—he is clean, and the bed is clean, and the sweat rising lightly to the surface of his skin is clean and flecked with salt.

He trembles in the glow. Beneath his chin, in the soft place at the edge of his jaw, calloused fingers move tenderly on stubbled skin. His pulse pounds against the touch, uninhibited. There is nothing he can hide from them now, and the smile nuzzled against his cheek is silent praise. He is being so good. He is being…

“Lovely.” The word is whispered in Common, but his brain takes each syllable and stretches, plies the malleable weft of language, turns it into something beautiful but unrecognizable. A huff of warm air, and then wet. Between his legs, Mollymauk lifts his head. “Caleb, look at me.”

Caleb tears his eyes from the ceiling where they have lingered, tracing the grain of the unvarnished wood in an effort to stay grounded. He looks down his own belly, concave in this position and furred with bristle, to meet Molly’s gaze. A single iridescent curl, purple-black like an oil slick, twists over his forehead, casting shadows. Molly licks his lips and Caleb trembles.

“You’re with us,” Molly says, “aren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to piece the sounds together, and then he nods. Just once at first, then again, reaching out with a shaking hand. Molly meets him halfway and laces their fingers together, propped on Caleb’s hip.

“I need to hear you say it, beautiful man. For me.” Molly’s eyes go heavy-lidded. “For us.”

The smile shifts to Caleb’s bare shoulder and softens into a kiss. He breathes deep, tastes brine and brack as Fjord shifts against his side. With a shudder, Caleb turns and presses the words into Fjord’s salt-pepper hair like a secret: “ _Please_.”

He is engulfed again. Molly’s tongue seems to reach inside of him, wrapping around the base of his spine and tugging as fireworks burst beneath his skin. Caleb cries out and Fjord embraces him, pulls him close. Keeps him safe and anchored. Murmurs gently into his hair as Caleb trembles and shakes to pieces. “You’re beautiful,” Fjord tells him, and Caleb feels the rumble of it deep in his chest. “Watch.”

Fjord rubs his chest and the warm scrape wakes him up a little bit. Lungs heaving, Caleb watches as Fjord traces his hand down, down, to wrap around one of Molly’s horns. Molly grunts at the contact, but his mouth is busy with other matters. His red eyes flick up, once, and crinkle at the edges. An invitation. Fjord tightens his grip slightly, almost imperceptible, and guides Molly’s face lower. Caleb can feel the inside of him, the back of his throat engulfing him, and then he is swallowed, heat and wet gripping his cock. It feels like a hand in his guts, like a knife thrust deep, but it doesn’t hurt. It just feels… it _feels_.

“Oh,” he gasps, bone-dry. The careful ring of pressure around the base of his cock loosens a touch as Molly withdraws in one long, sucking slide and pops off the end with a wicked smile.

“I heard that.” Molly’s tongue flicks out, vaguely forked at the end, and laps the head of his cock. “Did you, Fjord?”

“I heard it. You’re doing so good. So good, sweetheart.”

Where Molly is devious and playful, Fjord is patient, tender, laying down praise like a thick layer of icing sugar. Caleb writhes a little just to feel the weight of Fjord’s arm across his chest and whines, head tipped back, inviting more kisses to the tender places on his throat. There are already marks there, he knows. They pulse with heat when Fjord passes them by to suck the hollow of his sternum.

Below, Molly spreads his fingers across Caleb’s pelvis, letting his cock slap against his belly. Then they drag down, pressing his thighs wider. _Higher_. Caleb wets his lips nervously and clings to Fjord’s sturdy bicep for support as that clever, smirking mouth kisses down. Down. Along his taint, tongue curling against his bollocks, trailing to his hole, already softened from Fjord’s earlier ministrations. Overwhelmed by memory, Caleb sobs aloud—remembering Fjord’s weight, his delicious warmth and girth, the steadiness. The way he enveloped Caleb so easily, holding him at the small of his back to take him with slow, deliberate strokes. Molly’s clever tongue almost feels like a tease by comparison.

And then he presses _in_. A strangled _yes_ escapes Caleb, muffled by the blurring of Fjord’s mouth against his. It’s like he can’t help himself, this gentle giant, pinning him to the mattress but also cradling him as Molly eats him out with gusto.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Fjord murmurs, reticent, as if the smudging press of lips had somehow crossed a boundary. Caleb nods, a little drunk on the desire billowing in the air, and nudges into Fjord’s space, pushing back against the weight of him. Fjord cracks a grin and cups his cheek, welling their tongues together. Like a tentative offering made to a long-forgotten altar, he breaches Caleb’s mouth and licks against his palate.

Below, Molly withdraws. Just a little. Just enough that Caleb moans brokenly into Fjord’s mouth and reaches down to grab the same horn Fjord had taken hold of earlier. “Please,” he mumbles. It’s lost to Fjord’s lips. “Bitte, bitte…”

He doesn’t have the strength to grip, only to lay, feeling the ridges of Molly’s horns and the damp curls of his hair as he draws Caleb’s cock back into his mouth. This time his hands make no move to assist, only brace themselves on Caleb’s straining thighs as he sucks and sucks, graceless, pure function. Barrelling toward the finish.

“ _Yes_ ,” Caleb exhales, inhales, breath as coarse as sand underfoot. Fjord holds him and murmurs encouragement that is lost to his babbling, devolving again into Zemnian— “Yes, _yes_ , _oh_ …”

Molly hums around him and it is enough. He peaks, cresting the wave, and slams down hard against the surf, churning sand beneath his feet. He is underwater. Shallow still, enough to see the sun as it glints at him through the water. Slow, like chilled honey, the undertow gives him up until he is suddenly dragged ashore, gasping and squinting in the light.

“Hey.”

It’s Fjord, blinking at him in the dimness of their private room. They are at an inn, in Zadash—he knows this, he remembers it perfectly, and yet it feels like a fever dream. Slowly he blinks back, matching the unconscious breaths that rise and fall like waves in Fjord’s chest.

“Are you with us?”

Molly. Molly is here too, kneeling between his legs. Caleb winces at the ache and Molly soothes him, massaging his thighs to ease the strain. His cock rests limp and spent against his thigh, still wet from Molly’s eager mouth, and when he peers through the tepid light Caleb can see a glimmer of white smeared below Molly’s bruise-purple lips.

“I… ja. Ja, I am with you.” Gods, the sound of his own voice—grating and horrible. He remembers screaming silently into Fjord’s neck, moaning and sobbing as Molly teased him until he trembled at the brink for what felt like hours. And now…

Now he curls against Fjord’s broad chest. Trembling, fragile, but himself. Happy. He cracks a wavering smile and is rewarded when Molly grins back, full of teeth and laughter as the tiefling crawls back up the bed to kiss his forehead.

“There. That’s our Caleb.” Another kiss, against the brow. Molly sighs a long, hot breath into his hair and moves to kiss Fjord full on the mouth. “My beautiful boys.”

Caleb slumps back fully against the pillows, finally, as Fjord peels himself away to redistribute the mattress real estate. “Gods… above and below… You’ve a devil’s tongue, Mollymauk.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Molly winks and chucks him gently under the chin. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. I am… ja, I am good.” The night is coming back to him piecemeal. Some of it he flushes to remember, but the happy hum in his chest dispels any lingering shame he might have felt at having taken the center of attention for most of the evening. “Will you lie down with us?”

“Of course, of course. This is almost the best part.” With a dimple quirked deep in his cheek, Molly sprawls himself against Caleb’s side. Though Caleb’s attention is fading, he has enough wherewithal to notice Fjord moving about the room, putting things in order. Molly’s lilting voice calls out, softly, “Are you not coming back to bed, Fjord?”

“Just give me a minute,” Fjord throws over his shoulder. Water splashes against porcelain and Fjord returns with a cool cloth to wipe the sweat from Caleb’s chest and the sticky saliva from his nether regions. He doesn’t even have the energy to blush at the stark intimacy of it. Molly tucks a kiss against his cheek and he sighs, letting his head fall back completely.

The mattress dips, and Fjord is there again, bringing up the blankets to shield them from the cool autumn night sneaking in between the window panes. Affordable indeed, the Leaky Tap, but Caleb has no complaints. He wonders briefly how the girls are doing, and then that singular thought leaves his mind as Molly pinches out the light and they fall together, tangled, subsumed into the long and unlit depths of sleep.


End file.
